


At the Twelfth Chime

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: Classic Horror Movies, M/M, house on haunted hill 1959, klainetober halloween extravaganza, original house on haunted hill characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26767390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: (Lovely one-shot courtesy of the classic horror movie theme and day 1 prompt: midnight given by grlnxtdr30!)Kurt and Blaine find out exactly why you should never watch a classic horror film at midnight.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	At the Twelfth Chime

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is a longer one-shot (and honestly, can I ever do a short one?), inspired for grlnxtdr30's Klainetober Halloween Fic Extravaganza! This story is for the first theme week which is classic horror movies and the day 1 prompt which is midnight. I just want to warn you all that there is some violence though not really graphic and this fic contains spoilers for the original 1959 version of House on Haunted Hill. If you haven't seen it, I recommend checking it out. You can find it on youtube. Also, if you scare easily, you should be able to handle this one just fine. It's not that scary really. :)
> 
> As a side note, if you are waiting for me to update anything else, I'm letting you know they're not forgotten. I've just been having a hard time figuring out where to go next with them, plus a lot of RL stuff has gone on. They will come eventually, I promise! Until then, enjoy! And as always, comments and kudos make me smile!

There’s a reason you should never watch classic horror films at midnight. Of course, everyone has their own idea of what is considered a classic horror film. Such was the discussion between two teenage boys, alone in the house on one fateful Halloween night…

…

“Forget it Blaine, I am not watching a vampire movie!” Kurt cried, setting the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table.

“Oh come on Kurt!” The other boy said. “Halloween is about being scared! That’s the whole point! And it’s fun to get scared!” He threw his hands up animatedly, deciding to use the puppy dog eyes on the other boy.

However, Kurt knew Blaine all too well. “Forget it Anderson,” he said. “I hate vampires.” He moved to pick through the DVD library to the side of the television.

Blaine shook his head. “You know if the rest of the Warblers were here, you’d totally be outnumbered,” he pointed out.

Kurt turned from the DVDs with one in his hand and raised a delicately shaped eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his face. “Really?” he asked, tone suggesting he didn’t believe it. Because when had a Warbler ever said no to him? He was irresistible. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing they aren’t.”

The curly haired boy tutted. “No, they rather keep trick or treating until late into the night,” he said.

His best friend shook his head and moved to put the DVD in the player. “I can’t believe anyone would still be passing out candy this late,” he said, grabbing the remote and flopping down on the couch.

Blaine shrugged, glancing at their own bags of candy resting in the armchair. They’d had more sense than the rest of the Warblers when it came to trying to trick or treat all night. Besides, Blaine couldn’t imagine spending Halloween without at least one horror movie viewing. But of course, the two boys had already watched a few. Now that it was nearing the bewitching hour, they’d decided to try and go scarier.

“What did you put in?” the curly haired boy asked, picking up the fresh bowl of popcorn and glancing at Kurt as he pressed play.

“A real classic,” the pale boy said with a slight grin. “House on Haunted Hill.”

The other boy frowned. “That’s not a classic,” he said.

Kurt grinned again. “Oh honey, I’m not referring to the more recent one. I’m referring to the original Vincent Price version.”

Blaine looked confused for a moment. “Wait, House on Haunted Hill was a remake?” he asked.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know that,” Kurt said, setting the remote back on the coffee table after he selected the ‘play movie’ option on the screen. “I mean, you know more about classic movies than I do. I would have thought you would have known about the original House on Haunted Hill.”

“Huh, I must be losing my touch,” Blaine remarked, popping a few kernels of popcorn into his mouth and passing the bowl to Kurt.

The older boy just rolled his eyes before grabbing his own handful of popcorn and settling in to watch the movie.

It was just getting to the guests all being given their introduction to the party by Vincent Price’s character when the little hand on the clock above the mantle slid into place over the twelve. A low but audible bong hit the air, signaling it was midnight and Halloween was officially over. But as the two boys on the couch were about to discover, perhaps it wasn’t quite over for them. Not by a long shot.

…

Now we reach the point at which you will learn why you should never watch a classic horror film at midnight. But perhaps it was a smarter option that the two boys were watching the original House on Haunted Hill and not the original Thirteen Ghosts. Granted, this might have been due to the fact that Kurt’s family didn’t own the original Thirteen Ghosts, but in this case, that was a good thing. It was harder to outrun actual ghosts, than pretend ones.

But perhaps you should see for yourself exactly what was to happen to the boys. So without further ado, and no more interruptions, please read on.

…

Just as the last strike of midnight resounded in the living room of the Hudmel household, a scream erupted from the movie on the screen. Suddenly, there were several flashes from the lights in the room, already unusual because the boys had turned them off for the sake of a scarier atmosphere.

“What’s going on?” Blaine asked, glancing around the room.

Kurt clutched the popcorn bowl in his pale hands. He was an expert at hiding his fear, but Blaine was an expert at seeing it. “I don’t know,” the older boy replied, incidentally sliding closer to his friend.

That was when the movie on the screen turned to static and all other activity ceased to halt. The lights snapped off. And the only sound in the room was the static on the television. The crackling black and white snow-like image was like a blaring beacon of light in the middle of the ocean. Both boys froze, unable to tear their eyes from the screen.

Not even thirty seconds later, it shut off completely and a dead silence filled the room.

Kurt wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard Blaine speak from beside him. “Do you think it was a power outage?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically small. It sounded eerie in the complete darkness of the room.

Kurt shook his head before remembering Blaine couldn’t see him. He was still clutching the popcorn bowl in his hands. “No,” he said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “The weather has been unusually good for this time of year.”

If the pale boy could see his friend, he would have noted his eyes widening in fear. “You don’t think someone cut the power and is trying to break in, do you?” he asked.

The older boy swallowed. “No,” he said, trying to sound as though he believed it. That was easier said than done. “That wouldn’t explain flickering lights.” He was right. Even if the lights had been on, they wouldn’t have flickered like that. “I should go get a candle,” he said next, moving to set the bowl down on the coffee table.

“Can’t we just use our phones?” Blaine pleaded, not wanting Kurt to leave him.

He didn’t want to admit it aloud, but Kurt had a dreaded feeling that their phones wouldn’t work either. However, relaying it to Blaine suddenly became the least of his problems.

“Where is my phone?” the curly haired boy suddenly asked.

Kurt went still. “What are you talking about? Isn’t it in your pocket?” This time, it was nearly impossible to keep the tremble out of his voice.

This time, it was Blaine who shook his head before remembering the other boy couldn’t see him. “No, but…it was there when we started the movie.”

“Are you saying your phone just up and disappeared?” Kurt asked. He wasn’t sure if the thought scared him or not. It was an unbelievable idea, but so far, this night had suddenly turned unbelievable, with lights that hadn’t even been on flickering and the television going staticy and shutting off on its own. That particularly sounded kind of like something out of Poltergeist and Kurt found himself glad they hadn’t chosen to watch that one. That might have been even worse.

Wait, was he actually considering the movie had anything to do with this? That was silly.

Blaine’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Yes,” he muttered. Kurt could hear the other boy patting himself down. Thank God they’d changed out of their costumes when they’d gotten home.

The notion of Blaine’s phone missing suddenly had the boy moving again and Kurt reached over to search for his own phone on the table beside his end of the couch. Only to discover…

“The table’s missing.” He jerked his hand back almost immediately.

“What?” Blaine asked. Kurt could hear his friend scramble closer and felt the boy kneel across him. He was just glad it was pitch dark and Blaine couldn’t see the blush that covered his pale face.

Blaine stuck his hand out and found himself swiping through air. Where there had been a table a few minutes before, there was suddenly nothing.

“Kurt,” Blaine said in a small quiet voice. “I think we better go get that candle.” He slid off the couch and offered his hand. “Take my hand.”

The blush on Kurt’s face deepened as he reached out and took a hold of Blaine’s hand. Now was not the time to be thinking about crushes or how he was head over heels for his best friend. Now was the time to stick together and find out what the hell was going on.

Blaine led the way, his free hand out in front of him. He knew from a time when there had been a power outage in Kurt’s house, that they kept candles in a drawer in the kitchen. And he’d been over enough times to find his way there in the dark.

His hand found the doorway and he walked through, pulling Kurt behind him and keeping his hand on the wall. He turned to the left and started counting a few steps, remembering the doorway to the kitchen was only a few steps down the hall from the living room. Once he’d walked far enough he thought that he could turn and walk across the hall and into the kitchen, he did just that. But instead of stepping onto the familiar tile of the Hudmel kitchen, Blaine let out an expletive as he banged into a physical object.

“Blaine?” Kurt questioned, concern lacing his voice.

The curly haired boy was quiet for a moment as he ran his hand over the object, pain blooming from where his upper thighs hit in the collision. But he ignored it.

“Kurt,” he started after a moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you don’t have a table with an old-fashioned rotary phone in your hallway, right?”

It was Kurt’s turn to be quiet because no, he didn’t have a table with an old-fashioned rotary phone in his hallway. In fact, there shouldn’t have even been a wall there. It should have been the doorway to the kitchen.

The pale boy reached out his free hand and placed it flat against the wall. He trailed his fingers across it until he found what he’d hoped to find. A light-switch. He half-prayed the light would come on and half-hoped it wouldn’t. A second later, he flipped the switch.

Light flickered, once, twice, three times and held, revealing the hallway. The hallway that most certainly was not the hallway of the Hudmel house.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked, looking around. “Where the hell are we?”

But Kurt didn’t listen to the question. In fact, he was preoccupied with another issue entirely. “Blaine,” he said. “You’re in black and white.”

Blaine turned around, but before he could comment in kind, the two boys heard footsteps and their eyes suddenly fell on the staircase behind Kurt. This hallway was certainly like the reverse direction of the hallway in the Hudmel house, but it didn’t necessarily look familiar either.

Kurt’s hold on Blaine’s hand grew tighter as the two of them froze, unable to tear their gaze from the stairs.

Slowly but surely, a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Kurt knew exactly who he was. He was surprised to find his voice as the man came to a stop, hands in his pockets, complete in his black and white glory.

“Mr. Price?” the pale boy asked and Blaine’s eyes flicked to look at him, shock evident in their expression.

The man chuckled. “I dare say, you two teenagers have definitely stepped in it.” A crooked sort of grin appeared on his face. “And the name is Mr. Loren. Frederick Loren,” he said.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances.

“Frederick Loren?” Kurt questioned, looking back at the man. “But this doesn’t look like the house on the hill.” He decided it was safer not to point out the fact that Frederick Loren was a fictional character.

Mr. Loren snorted. “Oh my dear boy. You shouldn’t believe everything you read or see.” What sounded like a dark chuckle followed his words and once again, Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances. They had no idea what was going on and the latter was glad that Kurt had opted to speak up because he was too afraid to do so himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kurt asked.

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Mr. Loren gave them what he might have thought was a smile, but looked more like a sneer. So far, aside from his appearance and name, he seemed to be deviating from the movie character entirely. Mr. Loren was supposed to be the unsuspecting target of the film, not the instigator.

Kurt was beginning to wonder whether they were in the movie or had been transported to some alternate version of the story.

“I feel like we’re in a House on Haunted Hill fan fiction,” he mumbled. Details were certainly deviated a bit to render that.

“We couldn’t have fallen into a book,” Blaine said, finally finding his voice. Kurt held back the desire to let out a dry laugh. “Is there a book for House on Haunted Hill?” the curly haired boy questioned him.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied honestly.

Mr. Loren cleared his throat. “You do know it’s disrespectful to hold private conversations when there is a third person in the room,” he said.

For the third time, Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances.

The man didn’t give them a chance to respond. “The other guests are in the living room. I suppose you might as well join them because you’re here now.”

“You weren’t expecting us?” Blaine asked.

Eyes darkened and narrowed slightly. “What fun is a party when everything that happens is expected?” he asked, before he turned and made his way back up the stairs.

Kurt and Blaine remained still for several moments, wanting to make sure he wasn’t coming back down again before Kurt finally spoke.

“We have to find the guns,” he said.

“Guns?” Blaine asked with wide eyes.

Kurt nodded. “If I remember right, and forgive me as I haven’t watched this movie in a while, Mr. Loren had guns in coffins waiting for the guests,” he said.

Blaine shook his head. “Even if that’s true, there’s no way of telling whether it is here. I think it’s fair to say this is a warped version of the movie.”

The pale boy sighed. Blaine was right. This looked nothing like the house in the film and Mr. Loren seemed more like the instigator, rather than the target. Like in this case, he knew people were going to die.

Kurt froze. Die. People were going to die. They could die. They had to find a way out of here.

“We have to figure how to get out of here,” he finally said.

“Don’t you think we should try and figure out how we got here in the first place?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know how we got here. There was no portal. Just a shutting down of power and some static,” Kurt replied.

Blaine shook his head. “And the clock striking midnight.”

Kurt sighed. “But the clock’s announcement of midnight meant that Halloween was over. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless the fact that it was Halloween has nothing to do with it.” Blaine tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Of course, there is the fact that we started watching it when it was still technically Halloween.”

“I think you were right with the first idea,” Kurt said. He fought the urge to start pacing, not wanting to let go of Blaine’s hand. Though he knew that they couldn’t let anyone else catch them holding hands. This was 1959 essentially. Or so the illusion would appear. If it was an illusion. Was someone playing a prank on them? He began to look all around, hoping to see the glimpse of a blonde head hiding behind something. It sounded like something Jeff might set up. On the other hand, illusions couldn’t hurt you. “Do you think it’s a joke?” he asked Blaine, though he was all but certain that it wasn’t.

The other boy shook his head. “No. Jokes aren’t meant to hurt you. Not physically anyway.” He rubbed at his thighs with his free hand.

“And what kind of trick could make you appear black and white?” Kurt asked in agreement, looking down at himself. “Ugh, my outfit looks so washed out now.”

“That reminds me, we aren’t exactly dressed for a party,” Blaine said, giving himself a once over as well.

Though Kurt always believed every moment was a moment for fashion, he still was dressed in clothes comfortable for lounging around at home. There was no point to change out of his costume to spend the rest of the evening watching horror movies completely dolled up.

Blaine had been intending to stay the night with Kurt and had put on one of his less elaborate outfits, not really wanting to watch movies in his pajamas. Of course, Blaine’s style was not nearly as high end elaborate as Kurt’s but it looked good on him all the same. And Kurt rarely got to see him outside of the Dalton uniform.

“Mr. Loren didn’t seem to mind,” Kurt said.

“Mr. Loren is off his rocker,” Blaine pointed out.

“Well, that is certainly an understatement,” came a new voice. Kurt and Blaine turned to see a classically handsome young man step into the hallway from the living room, a glass of brandy in his hand. “I’m Lance Schroeder,” he introduced himself. “Have you come for Lorens party?”

Kurt and Blaine were quiet for a moment, both of them considering their words.

“We don’t exactly know the Lorens,” Kurt finally said.

Lance chuckled. Though the sound from him was much more pleasant than that of Mr. Loren. “Neither do most of the other people here. He seems to have chosen at random,” he replied.

“We didn’t get an invitation,” Blaine said.

The man furrowed his brow in confusion. “Well you must have. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“I assure you,” Blaine started, shaking his head but he was interrupted by his companion.

“Blaine,” Kurt said in a harsh whisper. Blaine turned to look at the pale boy. His face had practically gone white as a sheet and in his hand, he was holding up an envelope.  _ Mr. Kurt Hummel _ was written in script across the front. Blaine stared at it for a moment, wide-eyed in shock. “You might want to check your pockets,” Kurt went on, swallowing heavily.

The curly haired boy was absolutely terrified as he did just that, reaching into his pocket and almost shaking when he pulled out a similar envelope to Kurt’s. Written on the front in that same script were the words  _ Mr. Blaine Anderson _ .

Shaking, the darker boy flipped open the enveloped and pulled out the card that was inside.

It was an invitation.

“Where did these come from?” the boy asked.

Kurt didn’t get a chance to answer as Lance cut in. “I believe the mail,” he said, but they could tell he was merely teasing.

It was kind of jarring how neither Mr. Loren, nor Lance seemed to show any sign of their confusion at Kurt and Blaine’s sudden presence at their engagement. They didn’t even appear to notice their clothes didn’t exactly fit the situation either. Kurt wondered why that was because he already knew he wasn’t dressed for the occasion.

Instinctively, he moved to stand in front of a mirror fastened on the hallway wall, pulling Blaine behind him. His free hand went up to his mouth to cover a gasp.

Instead of his fashionable comfy clothes, Kurt found himself staring at a classic 1950s suit. Of course, he had no real idea whether it was blue or actually gray because all color was gone. When he tore his eyes from the mirror and looked down on himself, his comfy clothes were gone and he was physically viewing the suit. He turned to look at Blaine, who now was in a similar suit, though his was clearly black regardless of the absence color.

“Well, I guess we’re dressed for a party now,” Blaine deadpanned, causing Lance to laugh. Somehow, the man didn’t seem to find any of their reactions awkward or strange. Perhaps it was because he was a fictional character and not a real person at all. The curly haired boy highly doubted characters from this day and age were created as well rounded as characters in the present day.

“Would you boys care to join us in the living room?” Lance asked.

Kurt and Blaine glanced at each other. It seemed they were suddenly doing that an awful lot.

“I guess we don’t really have any other choice,” Blaine stated.

Kurt felt that maybe they could make an excuse to go to the restroom or get a bite from the kitchen, something that sounded normal, just so they could talk privately, but slipping off right away when you were in a horror movie was not the smartest idea, even if you were with another person.

“Do you have any more of that?” Kurt asked, pointing to the glass of brandy in Lance’s hand. Blaine felt his eyes go wide at his friend’s question.

Lance glanced from Kurt to the glass and back to Kurt again, shaking his head. “Nice try young man, but you know it’s illegal for you to drink.”

Kurt held back the scowl. Even in a fictional story they were sticking to the laws. Why did the drinking age have to be 21 even in 1959? This was the one time, Kurt felt he could use a drink.

“Would that even affect us since it isn’t real?” Blaine whispered to him. That was something Kurt hadn’t thought about. Would anything in this world actually affect them, considering none of it was actually real?

But at the same time, everything appeared to be very real. After all, Blaine had hurt himself when he banged into that table. The only thing reminding Kurt that this was not real, was the fact that it was all in black and white. Reality didn’t happen in black and white.

“Does it matter? We aren’t getting any anyway,” Kurt whispered back. He heard Blaine let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s good. Alcohol and I don’t mix well,” he said.

Kurt shook his head. “Alcohol doesn’t mix well with me either.” He ignored Blaine’s curious look.

“Then why did you want some?” the curly haired boy asked.

“Can you honestly tell me you aren’t considering it with our current situation?” Kurt replied.

Blaine was quiet for a moment. Kurt had a point. Maybe the alcohol would make it all easier to bear. But then he had another thought. “Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think anyone is going to discover us missing?” the boy asked.

The question gave the pale boy pause. He hadn’t thought about what things would be like back home now with him and Blaine essentially in the movie they’d been watching. He didn’t know if the television had come back on after they disappeared. And when had they disappeared? They’d been sitting on the couch the entire time and Kurt hadn’t felt anything unusual. So what exactly had happened?

“I feel like a dark twisted Cinderella,” he muttered.

Blaine’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Can I be your prince then?” he asked. It was enough to pull a smile from Kurt.

“Only if you get me home by midnight,” he teased. They allowed themselves a moment of laughter before becoming serious again. Lance had already disappeared back into the living room. “I guess we should join them,” Kurt said.

“Do we have any other choice?” Blaine asked, repeating his earlier sentiment. He was right, they didn’t really.

‘I guess not,” Kurt agreed, feeling defeated. He gave Blaine’s hand a squeeze before reluctantly releasing his hold on it and moving towards the living room.

The other guests all looked up as Blaine and Kurt entered the room, making Kurt feel like he’d been put on display at a museum. He mustered up a smile as best as he could but figured it came out as more of a grimace.

“Are you boys a little young to be invited to this party?” asked a man with a mustache. Kurt threw him his best bitch glare. Time to bust out his acting chops.

“We got invitations the same as you,” he responded, tone terse, and holding up his invitation.

The man said nothing, just looked a little put out by the response and the fact that Kurt held an invitation in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “I didn’t get your names.”

It was Blaine who responded this time. “Forgive us. I’m Blaine Anderson and this is my best friend Kurt Hummel,” he introduced. Kurt gave the group a curt nod.

“You have to forgive David,” a woman sitting on the couch said. “More people to contend with appear to be grating on his nerves.”

Blaine gave Kurt a confused look. He hadn’t quite remembered the story of the film. Kurt knew it better.

“The ten thousand dollars,” Kurt reminded him.

“Oh,” Blaine said with a nod. “Well, I don’t really have much need for the money. I wasn’t even going to accept the invitation, but seeing as Kurt got one as well, I couldn’t let him go alone now could I?”

“What a gentleman you are,” the woman replied. “You’ll make some young lady a fine husband one day.”

To his credit, Blaine just nodded, a slight smile on his face. He may be oblivious, but he knew better than to come out when these people thought it was 1959. “Thank you ma’am,” he finally said instead.

“Oh forgive me,” she responded, placing a hand to her chest. “My name is Nora Manning, but you may call me Nora if you’d like.”

“Pleasure to meet you Nora,” Kurt said with a nod of his head. So far, the only two people he found worth his time were Nora and Lance. Though he was quite expecting there to be a fair few misconceived personalities in the room. If Mr. Loren seemed to be off from the film character, he wouldn’t put it past these people to be too. He felt that maybe he needed to take every interaction with a grain of salt. As though he and Blaine were now the targets and everyone else was in on it, regardless of whether or not they knew it.

The clearing of a throat had them all turning towards the doorway. Mr. Loren stood there, accompanied by a woman who judging by the white shade of her hair, must have actually been a blonde.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Loren. “Allow me to introduce my wife Annabelle. This is essentially her party.” Kurt did have to wonder why the hosts seemed to think it wasn’t more polite to greet the guests as they came in and just leave them in the living room unattended. What else were they supposed to do other than get drinks? “Also, we have a few extra guests. We weren’t sure if they were going to show,” Mr. Loren continued, nodding his head in Kurt and Blaine’s direction.

“I really don’t like that guy,” Blaine whispered to Kurt.

“Touche,” the pale boy said.

Mr. Loren went on as his wife stood silently beside him. “Now, the rules of the game are simple. Every guest who manages to survive the night will earn ten thousand dollars. Once we lock the front door, there will be no going back. So if you don’t wish to stay, I suggest you speak up now and we will let you out, because if not, the door will be locked for the night at midnight.”

Kurt wasn’t entirely sure whether Mr. Loren was telling the truth. What he was sure of, was that it wouldn’t be that simple for him and Blaine to get out of this situation.

“What do we do?” Blaine whispered. Kurt shook his head, indicating he had no idea.

“I have a feeling they won’t just let us leave. That’s not how this will work.”

Blaine sighed and glanced down at the floor momentarily. He knew Kurt was right. “Do you really think they could hurt us?” he asked.

Kurt was silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “We know that outwardly, this is only a film, but everything so far has been at least a little different to how it’s portrayed when we watch it.”

“Like the house being completely different from the actual set,” Blaine realized. Kurt nodded. “And the fact that Mr. Loren is beginning to look like the bad guy.” Kurt nodded again. “What about the guns?” Blaine asked him next.

The pale boy went still, feeling his ears heat up. “We can’t ask about them. If Mr. Loren catches on that we know more than we should…” He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to. Blaine understood completely.

“Right,” the curly haired boy muttered.

“And there’s no guarantee that there are any guns this time,” Kurt added. Blaine nodded his head. Kurt was right again.

“Double right,” he replied, pulling a small genuine smile from the other boy.

Finished with their unnoticed whispered conversation, they realized the others in the room were standing. Mr. Loren was beckoning them all to follow and Kurt and Blaine didn’t have any other choice but to go with them. Kurt briefly entertained the idea of slipping away from the group and seeing if they couldn’t find their own way out. There was still one recurring theme that gave Kurt an idea.

“I think I know how to get out of here,” he said to Blaine as the two boys fell to the back of the group.

“You do?” Blaine questioned. “How?”

Kurt drew a breath. “We have to survive the night,” he said.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Blaine said. “I mean those two at the end of the remake survived, got out and got their checks.” He paused for a moment. “Of course, they had no idea how to get down,” he added with a frown.

“Well yeah,” Kurt said slowly. “But Blaine, the original doesn’t end like that.”

Blaine got quiet. “Oh. Did they all die then?” he asked. Normally, Blaine wasn’t the kind of person to approve of spoilers, but this was hardly a normal situation and he figured maybe if Kurt thought they needed to survive the night to get out, then he ought to know what they were up against.

Instead of a yes or a no, Kurt shrugged. “No one really knows exactly what happened in the end. I mean, there were survivors yes, but it never says if they get out or get paid or anything like that,” he told him.

The curly haired boy paled. “So with no knowledge of whether any of them get out, there’s no telling whether we can get out,” he confirmed. Kurt nodded his head.

“If we were able to get out now, we’d need to do it before 11:55,” Kurt said. Blaine frowned, a look of confusion on his face.

“I thought Mr. Loren said midnight,” he said.

“He did,” Kurt confirmed. “But the door will actually be locked five minutes early.” Blaine frowned again. Of course, this information didn’t benefit them anyway because just leaving before they locked the doors would be too easy. He realized that Kurt might be right. If they wanted to get out and back home, they would need to survive the night.

“Are you two coming or not?” Mr. Loren’s creepy voice broke into their whispered conversation. They looked up to see the group gathered at a door, the older man standing with it open and they all were looking at Kurt and Blaine.

“Sorry Mr. Loren,” Kurt said respectfully. He gave Blaine a look as if to say ‘we’ll talk later’ and the two of them hurried to catch up.

“Mr. Pritchard, if you please,” Mr. Loren said to the older man. The man called Mr. Pritchard nodded and began to lead the group down a flight of stairs.

Blaine glanced over at Kurt as they followed the others. He noted that the expression on the pale boy’s face was one of slight confusion, mixed with concern. He nudged his friend, trying to gently persuade him to tell him what was wrong without starting too much of a conversation.

Kurt shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he whispered. “Mr. Pritchard, the owner of the house, is supposed to give the tour  _ before _ Mr. Loren tells everyone the rules, not after.” Blaine’s eyes widened just a bit.

“The story is being taken out of context,” he said aloud. Even if it was only slightly, it did give both boys a cause to worry. This may be a very different adventure then the film was. After all, the house was nothing like the one in the film. For example, the stairs were in the hallway but the set for the film had the stairs coming right off the living room, which you stepped into from the front door.

The pale boy held his breath and Blaine gently slid his hand into his, knowing that no one would be paying attention to them right at that moment anyway. Kurt threw him a grateful look. If they got out of this, he was going to confess everything to Blaine. Maybe...if it still didn’t seem so daunting and scary.

All these horror films and the thing that terrified Kurt the most, was confessing his feelings to Blaine.

“...where a previous owner killed his wife,” they heard and both boys snapped their heads up, glancing at each other. They were standing in the basement and Mr. Pritchard was explaining about the vat in the floor.

This prompted a question Kurt had always wondered and now that he had the opportunity, he decided to speak up.

“Pardon me Mr. Pritchard,” he said, surprising Blaine. The group all turned to look at him. “But why has no one ever attempted to get rid of the vat? Or at least cover it up.” Maybe some good would come out of this adventure too. He’d get answers to some of the burning questions the film had always left lingering in him.

Mr. Pritchard seemed stunned at the sudden question. As though he hadn’t expected anyone was bright enough to want to know something like that. Instead of answering right away, he moved over to a shelf and beckoning Lance over, pulled it away from the wall.

Behind the shelf was the remains of an old cement mixer and a few chipped bricks. “They tried,” Mr. Pritchard said, picking up one of the bricks. “But that woman’s spirit wouldn’t let them cover up her grave.” He moved to the front of the shelf and for the first time, Kurt noticed with horror, a skeletal hand and part of the forearm. “This was all they found of that man the next morning,” Mr. Pritchard went on, picking the skeletal remains off the shelf.

“That’s horrible!” Nora cried. Lance patted her arm in reassurance.

“That’s what you get for messing with the dead miss,” Mr. Pritchard replied.

Annabelle stood hugging herself in a corner. Kurt’s eyes went to her subtly, before shifting over to David. He was trying to see if there was any silent communication between the two. In the actual film, Annabelle and David were behind everything, having a master plot to kill Frederick. But given the changes he’d noted here, he wasn’t sure if that was still the case or not.

“What is it?” Blaine whispered as Lance and Mr. Pritchard moved the shelf back. Kurt shook his head, following the group as they made their way back upstairs.

“I’ll tell you later,” the pale boy whispered back. Now was not the time for more secret little discussions. Not while they were still meant to stick with the group. The last thing the boys needed was for the two of them to become suspected of what was going to happen in the house. Of course, whatever had put them here, might have that as the plan all along.

“I’ll show you all to your rooms now,” Mr. Pritchard said. He led them up the main stairs to the second floor of the house and Kurt found himself tensing. Right. They each had to have their own room.

“They’re going to separate us,” he said.

“What?” Blaine asked, careful to keep his voice quiet so as not to draw attention. “There is no way I’m leaving you. Especially since you know more about what’s going on here than I do.”

It was true. For the first time since they had met, Kurt would be mentoring Blaine. It would finally feel like things were set right. Blaine might have been younger than Kurt but he had been a huge help when it came to being comfortable with himself.

Kurt bit his lip and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “They have to give everyone their own room. I promise Blaine, as soon as we’re left to our own devices, I’ll come see you.”

“But what if they show you your room first?” Blaine asked.

“Then you come see me,” Kurt responded immediately. “Maybe we will have to be separated for a short period but I promise I am not going to leave you alone,” he told him.

“I don’t like the idea of being separated at all Kurt. We’re not even supposed to be here,” Blaine replied. Kurt resisted the urge to cringe. He knew his best friend was right. Maybe there was a way they could do this without being separated. But he doubted it.

The pale boy let out a sigh and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I promise, no more than five minutes apart at most and then we will be together again.” Kurt knew he was taking a big gamble. With the way this film had been he knew that anything could happen in a space of five minutes. And though he didn’t say as much to Blaine, he had a good idea that it would. Whatever had brought them here was not going to play an easy game.

As Kurt had hoped, Blaine was shown to a room first. It was right next door to Nora’s and Kurt tried to give Blaine a reassuring smile. But the truth of the matter was, he hated having to separate from him almost as much as Blaine did.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” he whispered quietly to him. “I’ll be right back as soon as I can be,” he added.

Blaine nodded his head and slipped into the room, hesitant to let go of Kurt’s hand but making sure he didn’t dwell on it so much that those left in the group became suspicious of the relationship between the two boys.

There really wasn’t anything but friendship between them. Kurt wanted it to be something more but he had no idea how Blaine felt. The younger boy was often clueless and oblivious when it came to stuff like that. But Kurt found it incredibly endearing and on another level, incredibly lucky. He wouldn’t know what he would do if Blaine could pick up easily on his feelings for him.

He was the last to be shown a room, which was just across the hall and a few steps down from Blaine’s, so it would be fairly easy for him to get back to the other boy.

Kurt paced the room inside, trying to give a normal amount of time without seeming odd before he slipped out to go get Blaine. His mind was whirling a mile a minute. How the hell did they end up here? Why had they ended up here? Would it matter if they died in a fictional world? No, no he couldn’t think that question. He smacked himself on the side of the head for letting such an idea creep in. The biggest question on his mind was still, would they be able to get out?

With the fact that things seemed off from what happened in the film, Kurt wasn’t taking any chances. It was very likely the two people in question would not end up meeting their demise in the end. And without knowing whether the remaining characters had actually gotten out, there was really no way of telling how this was going to end.

Still, he remained steadfast in his impression that they had to survive the night to get out. The question was, how were they going to do that? Kurt felt that he may have an advantage, what with being familiar with the film in question. But again, with things being off, he really could be just as clueless as Blaine.

That was when he heard a loud scream come from across the hall.

“Blaine!” Kurt shouted. He ran from the room, noting the other guests had made their way out of their rooms and were quickly gathering around the door to Blaine’s room.

“Good riddance!” a woman said and Kurt turned to glare at her. Ruth, he remembered her name was.

“What the hell?” he said to the woman.

Ruth clucked her tongue. “Teenage boys have no business at a party where the price is ten thousand dollars!”

Kurt glared again and opened his mouth to retort but it was surprisingly David who beat him to it. The man who didn’t want others to contend with.

“It’s not a contest Bridgers,” he said, causing the woman to gasp when he excused himself from formalities. “Everyone who manages to stay the whole night will get ten thousand dollars. Weren’t you listening?”

“That doesn’t matter right now Mr. Trent,” Nora spoke up. “Right now we need to check on that boy.”

Kurt swallowed hard. He pushed through the group to the door, already feeling the guilt for leaving Blaine by himself. He knew whatever had brought them here had no intentions of making it easy. He just hoped that it wasn’t already too late for Blaine.

His heart thudding in his chest, Kurt raised his hand and knocked on the door. “Blaine?” he called out. There was no answer and he felt his thudding heart jump up into his throat. He knocked again. “Blaine?” he called a second time, raising his voice, hoping that maybe his friend just hadn’t heard him. But again, there was no answer.

Kurt pulled away from the door and turned to glare at Mr. Loren of all people. Now was the time to put his acting face on. He couldn’t let these people know that he knew more about what was happening than any of them.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded of Loren. “Oh let’s scare the crap out of people! While we’re at it, why don’t we try to take out a teenage boy! He can’t fight back!”

Frederick was completely caught off-guard by Kurt’s sudden anger. He tried to quickly compose himself but the surprise was too evident.

“I didn’t do anything to your friend,” Frederick said, his tone clipped, but not quite so much as it had been before. “I’m sure you and your friend were just as aware as the other guests that this house is rumored to be incredibly haunted.”

Kurt scoffed and muttered under his breath. “Yeah, sure it’s haunted.”

“What was that boy?” Mr. Loren said. He was not particularly thrilled that he couldn’t seem to intimidate the teenager.

“Nothing,” Kurt said flatly. He turned back to the door and turned the doorknob, opening it carefully.

The room looked nearly untouched, save for a slight impression on the side of the bed where Kurt figured Blaine must have been sitting. There was no sign of a break in from the window. The curtains were drawn and no glass was on the floor. There was no sign that anything in the room had been disturbed at all. Indeed, the only indication that someone had been in there, was the impression left on the bed.

“Where’s Pritchard,” Kurt demanded, looking at the group. Mr. Loren shrugged. “Find him,” the pale boy continued to demand.

“Why?” Mr. Loren asked, his tone bored. He began studying his fingernails, looking like it was beneath him.

“That little holier than thou act won’t work on me. I’ve perfected it. Now, find me Pritchard and as for why, it’s because he owns this house. If anyone would have any idea what happened to Blaine, it would be him!”

Mr. Loren had the nerve to sneer at Kurt. “Your little friend knew the rules. It’s not my fault he couldn’t put up the fight to survive.”

Oh yes, this definitely was not the Frederick Loren of the film. This guy didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.

Kurt looked around and a slow smirk came to his face. Just his luck that this house was different. He noticed a sword display on the wall and moved to grab a couple of them. They weren’t sai, but since he had skill with sai, he figured picking up a few others wouldn’t be terribly difficult.

“Now you listen here you smirky little cockroach,” he said to Mr. Loren, his own voice dripping with that bitch tone he'd perfected over the years. “I suggest if you don’t want to be dodging these swords, you go and find me Pritchard.”

Mr. Loren hesitated, looking fearfully at the couple of swords for a moment before he regained his composure. “You won’t harm me,” he said, tone dripping sickeningly sweet. “I’m the one who needs to write your check at the end. I can’t do that if I’m not around anymore.”

Kurt didn’t give a damn about a stupid check. All he wanted was Blaine back. “Try me,” he said, voice deadly.

Lance put a hand on Mr. Loren’s shoulder. “Mr. Loren, he’s just a kid,” he said.

Annabelle put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Mr. Shroeder is right dear. Please don’t cause a scene. Go find Mr. Pritchard for the boy.”

“No need to find me, I’m right here,” Mr. Pritchard said, walking up to the group while tying a robe around himself. “What seems to be the trouble?”

Kurt turned to him, the swords lowered but still in his grasp. “Blaine’s room. Is there any way out of it other than the door and the window?”

Mr. Pritchard scratched his head. “There are many secret passageways in this old house,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Blaine is missing,” Kurt said.

“Oh dear,” The older man replied. He walked into the room and stood there looking around it, checking for any signs that something was out of place. After a moment, he moved towards the bed post and Kurt watched him lean in closer as he studied the antique brass knob at the top.

“Mr. Pritchard?” Kurt questioned after the man didn’t say anything but continued to examine the knob. He and the rest of the group had slowly made their way into the room, minus Mr. Loren, who despite looking as vicious as ever, wouldn’t go anywhere near Kurt because he was still holding the swords.

The older man looked back at Kurt. “How does your friend feel about antiques?” he asked. Kurt was taken aback. He wasn’t aware that even in 1959, the bed frame would be considered an antique. How old was it?

“I’d say he loves them. Blaine is a very classy person. He always has his hair on point and his bow ties and cardigans straight.” Kurt was aware that his friend’s usual attire would fit right in with the fifties.

Mr. Pritchard nodded. “Well, this here bedknob activates a trapdoor. I don’t think anything of harm happened to your friend. I think he may have accidentally turned the knob and fallen through.”

“Where does it lead?” Kurt asked.

The older man shook his head. “Couldn’t tell you,” he said. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

“I thought you knew everything about this house,” the pale boy said through gritted teeth.

“I do,” Mr. Pritchard replied, not at all phased by Kurt’s reaction. “But this passageway is a funny one. It leads to a different place every time you go down it.”

Kurt’s eyes were still narrowed. “Are you telling me, that if I were to follow Blaine into the passageway, I won’t even end up wherever it took him?” he asked, disbelief written across his face. These were things he didn’t remember as being a part of the film. But he kept reminding himself this was turning out to deviate from the film so he shouldn’t be too surprised. He knew one thing for sure, when they got home, he was putting that DVD away and never taking it out again.

“That’s what I’m saying,” the older man replied.

“Great. Just great,” was all Kurt could say. Well, hell had officially begun. He already didn’t expect himself to get any sleep tonight, though that would have probably been the easiest way through the night. Now though, he was absolutely certain he wouldn’t. Because Kurt Hummel wouldn’t rest until Blaine was once more, by his side.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Nora said. “I don’t want to stay.”

Mr. Loren looked at the watch on his wrist. “Too late my dear. It’s already past midnight.”

…

Blaine blinked his eyes open, coughing at the cloud of dust that had risen up around him when he landed. He let out a groan and pulled himself up into a sitting position. It took him a moment to remember what was going on and he groaned again. This time, it was because what had happened prior was most certainly not a dream and he wasn’t just on the floor of the Hudmel living room after dozing off during the movie and falling off the couch.

He swiped his hands several times down the sleeves of his suit and checked himself before carefully standing up. Eyes darted around the dark room. Clearly, with all the dust he’d disturbed, this room must have seen better days and it wasn’t used for entertaining.

It was one of those moments Blaine wished his cell phone hadn’t disappeared and for the first time since he’d noticed it missing he wondered where it had gone. He hoped it had merely dropped on the Hudmel’s couch. Kurt’s was likely still on the end table because it wasn’t that his furniture had disappeared, it was that  _ they _ had disappeared.

Even if he had the phone though, there was no guarantee even the flashlight would work. This was 1959. Blaine was quite sure that kind of battery power may not have been invented yet. But he of course, couldn’t confirm the thought.

Hands braced out in front of him, he managed to find one of the walls of the room and kept one hand on it as he moved around the perimeter. Where the hell was he anyway? He had to still be in the house. As far as he knew, there was no way out other than the front door and he and Kurt had both already missed their opportunity to get out. Though because Kurt knew this film better than Blaine did, he figured his friend was right in assuming that just leaving when it was offered wasn't going to be the solution. Things like this never came easy.

“Hello?” he took a chance and called out, hoping someone might be close by. It was silent, something that didn’t surprise Blaine. But instead of being deterred, he tried again, a little louder. “Hello?”

“Get out!” something suddenly hissed and Blaine felt a force press him into the wall so hard, pain shot through his shoulders.

The curly haired boy drew a breath, willing his knees to stop shaking. He was braver than this. But it was one thing to face something you knew was just made up and meant to be fun. It was another entirely to be faced with something that could potentially be real.

“I don’t know how!” he admitted, surprised when his voice came out steady, despite the fear he felt.

“Get out!” whatever it was hissed again. Blaine felt himself suddenly lifted off his feet. He let out a yelp as he was thrown across the dark room and flung his hands out. The sting was harsh when he landed hard on the floor, but it had stopped him from facing any serious damage. He’d have to inspect his palms when he was able to see them again.

As he moved to stand up, his hand hit what felt like the edge of a doorway. So maybe the thing wasn’t very friendly, but at least it had the decency to throw him towards the exit. Or he hoped it was the exit anyway.

Scrambling to his feet, Blaine dashed through the doorway and jumped when he heard a loud bang behind him. Not wanting to know what it was, he ran forward. The new room was also dark but it did have one dim light bulb hanging overhead so at least he could make out enough to see where he was going. It occurred to him that he might have been somewhere in the basement. The question now was...where?

…

Back upstairs, Kurt was still pacing Blaine’s room. The rest of the group stood around just inside the door. Most of them were kind of hesitant to split up again. There was no doubt the idea that something bad could happen to them had made the vast majority of the guests nervous.

The only people who had left the group were Mr. and Mrs. Loren. Apparently, Frederick wasn’t phased by any of it. The very idea made Kurt angry. He invited them here, he should damn well care about their wellbeing. If this was real life, and not a film he was trapped in, he’d be pressing charges against Frederick the moment they got out of here. Of course, given how deviated from the actual film this was going, Kurt wasn’t sure whether or not it was real life anymore. He made it a point not to mention that to Blaine when he found him.

“Young man,” Lance spoke up and Kurt stopped to look up at him. “I’m sure your friend is okay.”

“He better damn well be,” Kurt responded, tone clipped. “Sorry,” he apologized. He was all wound up and he knew that none of this was Lance’s fault. “Our parents will have Loren’s head when we get out of this.”

Lance opened and closed his mouth, thinking better of what he might have been about to say.

“That man is so...so…” Nora started and let out a very unladylike growl when she couldn’t come up with a word. She stomped her foot for emphasis.

“I get the feeling none of us should have answered the invitation,” Ruth stated.

Mr. Pritchard glanced at her. “I didn’t really have a choice. I own the house,” he said.

“There’s needed money involved,” David added. “Did any of us really have a choice?”   


His question brought silence to the room. All the guests were glancing from one person to the next and back again. David had a point. They had all agreed because they were all in desperate need of the money. Kurt knew that wasn’t why he and Blaine were here, but he was going along with it anyway.

Their silence was interrupted by a second scream, this one clearly a female and the lot of guests ran from the room, following the sound to the door of the Lorens’ room.

“That was Miss. Annabelle,” Lance said. He looked at Mr. Pritchard. “Is there a secret passageway in there too?”

The older man shook his head. “Not that I’m aware,” he said. The group all glanced at each other, clearly feeling the ebb of fear creep in around them. Lance poised his hand, ready to knock when suddenly the door burst open and Mr. Loren came storming out.

“You!” he shouted, pointing directly at Kurt, eyes boring into him in a hateful manner. “You did this! You killed Annabelle!” he shouted.

So Annabelle was still supposedly dead, like in the film. Though Kurt had no way of knowing whether she was just supposedly dead, or in this case, actually dead. He did notice that the front of Mr. Loren’s clothes seemed to be covered in a dark substance. That threw him for a loop. Annabelle was hung in the film.

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice deadly calm. He was not going to let Loren get to him.

“Don’t act like you’re all innocent you little ingrate! I’ll have you locked up for this!”

“For what exactly?” Kurt asked, still unphased by the man’s attempt at intimidation.

Mr. Loren pointed behind him into the room. “My wife! While I was in the bathroom, you snuck in and sliced her with one of those bloody swords!”

Sliced her? Someone had physically cut Annabelle? Kurt knew he wasn’t responsible and he opened his mouth to say so when Ruth, who had been so blatantly against him and Blaine earlier, vouched for him.

“How could this boy have hurt Annabelle, Mr. Loren? He was with us in the other room the entire time!” The other guests all nodded, confirming her exclamation.

Mr. Loren growled. “Then his little friend did it!” he shouted next, still glaring daggers at Kurt. “I should have never invited teenagers.” Well, he wasn’t wrong, but Kurt wondered why he didn’t remember he had never actually invited them in the first place. They had just turned up out of nowhere and everyone acted like it wasn’t strange.

“Blaine is missing Mr. Loren,” Kurt stated, still calm. His hands were in his pockets and he made sure to keep eye contact with the man. “On top of that, I know Blaine better than I know anyone and he isn’t capable of hurting even a fly.”

Mr. Loren growled again. “Well someone is lying!”

Lance stepped boldly forward, arms crossed over his chest. “How do we know it isn’t you? The six of us were altogether in that other room, still trying to figure out what happened to the boy. But you, you came back here with Annabelle and you claim you were in the bathroom when it happened. You are standing here covered in blood. How do we know you didn’t kill her?”

There were murmurs around the group at Lance’s bold accusation and Mr. Loren grunted, standing straighter.

“As if you can’t hold a body in your arms without being covered in blood,” he said gruffly.

Kurt held his tongue, wanting to mention there were more ways to die than noticeable harm. But he had long since waned any desire to help Mr. Loren. The man clearly didn’t like him. And perhaps, he didn’t like any of the other guests.

It stumped the pale boy because this Mr. Loren was nothing like the film character. Mr. Loren was supposed to be an eccentric wealthy man, but potentially cruel did not appear to be one of his character traits. He’d been a victim in the end of the original film. And everything here was just so wrong and it made Kurt debate whether he should just stop questioning every change because this was not the film. That much was very clear now.

So then, what was it? An alternate reality where the events of the film were actually real events and happened a completely different way than was depicted?

He remembered some people in the present referring to the original House on Haunted Hill as a cheesy horror B movie, saying that despite being a major hit, it wasn’t considered actually scary. Not by today’s standards anyway. In reality, the original film had been a low budget project, as had another bonafide horror fic from the time, Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. In fact, William Castle, the man who made House on Haunted Hill, was a big fan of Hitchcock.

Kurt shook his head. He wasn’t sure any of that information actually mattered. Mostly because he still didn’t know whether he could consider himself in the film. That was getting harder and harder to believe with all the differences.

And it was clear that whatever had brought him and Blaine to this world, whatever it was, was intent on attempting to make it much scarier than the film actually was. He wasn’t going to give it the chance.

He was tempted to round on David and ask him if Annabelle was really dead, but he held back. The last thing he wanted was to show any of them he had more knowledge of what was going on than he should. Furthermore, with the changes, it was very likely his knowledge in this case, was the incorrect knowledge and he really knew no more than anyone else.

“How could you Frederick.” The voice cut into the silence Kurt hadn’t realized had befallen the group and he turned with the others to see what appeared a very bloodied Annabelle standing in the doorway, her eyes resting on her husband.

Slowly but surely, Frederick began to back away. The question was, was Annabelle actually a spirit, or not really dead? Kurt didn’t have the faintest clue.

“No,” Frederick shook his head frantically. “No, it’s not possible!” He gripped his head, fingers prying strands of hair from his carefully set style. “You’re dead! You’re dead!”

As Annabelle advanced on her husband, the group began backing away, giving the supposed ghost room. Kurt took that as his opportunity to peek inside the room. There, lying on the bed, was what looked like Annabelle’s body. He glanced back to the form advancing on Mr. Loren. She looked so solid. He couldn’t tell from his position if she was the real Annabelle and the body on the bed was a fake. And he didn’t dare risk getting closer to check. Not when everyone else was around.

The house it seemed had other plans. A sudden unexplainable breeze all but pushed Kurt into the room and suddenly the door slammed shut behind him. He could hear shouts outside in the hallway.

“Where’s the boy?!” he heard Nora frantically ask.

“He was here a moment ago!” Lance’s voice cried out. Kurt heard the sound of someone testing the doorknob. He could see the efforts to jiggle it open, but the door wasn’t budging.

The pale boy backed away from the door. He kept moving until he felt the far wall behind him and lost his balance as his torso fell through. Both hands flew out and gripped the sides of the open window in time to pull himself upright and he turned around. The curtains were blowing from the wind outside and for being on the second story, the drop was a long way down. Had he fallen out the window, he would have been a goner for sure.

“That was close,” he muttered to himself, placing a hand to his chest. Blaine would have never forgiven him if he had gotten himself killed and left the other boy all alone.

A morbid thought crossed his mind that maybe he was wrong about what they needed to do to get out of there, but he quickly shook it free. No, everyone else’s challenge was to survive the night. Why should he and Blaine be any different?

“Because this isn’t following the film,” he found himself answering the question aloud. Still, he refused to believe they needed to take that path. He didn’t know if any of this was actually real so there was no way in hell he would entertain the idea that he might have to die to get out of here. Even if dying in a horror film would be epic.

Granted, by the end of the original film, only two of the characters were actually dead. But he still didn’t know what had happened to the remaining characters with the way it ended.

Kurt began pacing for what felt like the millionth time. He was undoubtedly stuck now. Mr. Pritchard said he couldn’t recall there being a secret passage in this room. And with the door suddenly refusing to open, the only other way out was the open window. That was when Kurt got an idea.

His eyes went to the bed, where the supposed body still was and Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was going to have to do something he knew he wasn’t going to like.

He noted that the jiggling of the doorknob had stopped and he wondered briefly if the group had dispersed. It was eerily quiet outside the room, which unnerved him. Why all of a sudden could he not hear the threats of Annabelle towards her husband? Or the frantic nature of the other guests as they tried to get into the room to him. Surely, they hadn’t just given up.

Kurt swallowed. He didn’t have time to entertain that possible fear. He needed to find a way out of the room. And the only idea he had would require the sheets and blankets from the bed.

Going around to the opposite side, away from the supposed body, Kurt gripped a hold of the blankets and yanked on them. It wasn’t normally in his nature to treat bed clothes so crudely, but this constituted an emergency so right now, he really didn’t care.

His only thoughts as he worked was the hope that he would have the nerve to go through with it.

…

Blaine felt like he’d been wandering around the basement for hours. Granted, it probably hadn’t even been twenty minutes, but he had no way of telling the passage of time. He wondered why Mr. Pritchard hadn’t mentioned that the basement was like a vast underground maze. Of course, that could have been because the man had thought there was no intention of anyone wandering down there.

A sigh of relief broke from him when he passed through yet another door, one that took some effort shoving open, to find himself in the room with the vat. He knew the entrance back to the main house was just up the stairs. What he didn’t know was whether the door was locked.

This room was perhaps the most lit up of the entire basement and he didn’t have to squint or feel his way along the wall in here. He couldn’t just go up to the door and try to get out. Without knowing whether Mr. Pritchard had locked it, Blaine was aware that it might be a good idea to find something to use a battering ram.

That was when he remembered the cement bricks behind the shelf. That may not ram the door open, but maybe he could break off the lock somehow with it.

Moving swiftly, Blaine stopped in front of the shelf. He remembered how it had taken both Mr. Pritchard and Lance to move it before. So it must have been a fairly heavy shelf to move. However, it could be a trick too. If any of the items in this room were in tune with set pieces, it was highly likely the shelf was actually much lighter than it would seem. But Blaine was aware that there were changes between this and the actual film, so he had no way of knowing for sure if anything was a set prop or if it was all real. Especially given the fact that this house looked nothing like the one in the film did.

Before he could take the chance to see if he could move it, he had a sudden sensation like something or someone pressing two hands to his chest and the next thing Blaine knew, he’d been knocked off balance. The vat was behind him and the boy was pinwheeling his arms.

Thinking fast, he grabbed a hold of the shelf just as he started to fall backwards and let out a yelp as the entire shelf followed him down. The curly haired boy could see his life flash before his eyes and feel his heart thumping out of his chest as he braced himself for his impending death.

But it never came. Blaine opened his eyes several seconds later, not realizing he’d shut them. The vat was inches below him and he suddenly realized he must have subconsciously clung to the falling shelf with his whole body. His legs were wrapped tightly around one of the legs and his arms were looped through the same leg. The shelf itself was lying with the bottom two shelves pressed to the cement floor. The rest of it was hanging out over the open vat. Blaine was now considering himself to be incredibly lucky.

“Thank God for my affinity for climbing on furniture,” the boy muttered. With a little difficulty, he managed to maneuver his way around the edge until he was attached to the upper leg, rather than the lower one. He clung tighter for a moment as the movement caused the shelf to wobble dangerously over the vat.

Slowly but surely, the boy slid down the shelf until he could put his feet on the floor. He didn’t have a clue what had attempted to push him into the vat, but he didn’t want to stick around in case it tried something else.

As soon as he was firmly back on the ground, he grabbed one of the cement bricks and rushed around to the stairs. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He tried the doorknob. As he’d expected, it was locked. Of course Mr. Pritchard didn’t think anyone was going to wander down here with that vat in the floor. He certainly wouldn’t have if he’d known something would try to push him into it.

With a grunt, he began hitting the knob with the brick. One, two, three, strikes before the inside knob fell to the ground and he was able to reach through and push the lock. He swung the door open and stopped out into the main house. His suit was now incredibly dusty. But that didn’t matter to him. The only thing left on Blaine’s mind was finding Kurt.

He didn’t have a clue which room was Kurt’s but he intended to knock on the doors of any he knew didn’t belong to the other guests.

He was just making his way towards the stairs when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eyes and he turned his head to look into the living room. It was empty. But that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

There was something dangling outside the living room window and had he had any sense, he might have just turned and ran. Because who would be dumb enough to investigate an unidentified dangling object?

Blaine apparently was. He cautiously moved into the living room. He’d reached about the halfway mark when he finally determined the dangling object looked like a bedsheet. Was someone attempting to break out of the house?   


As if in answer to his question, a foot suddenly appeared and Blaine jumped. He stayed still in the center of the living room for a moment, feeling his heart rate speed up once again. He felt like he was rooted to the spot as the foot gave way to a leg, which gave way to two. Two legs were swinging in the air. And really who would be crazy enough to try something like that?

A shirttail was next. Whomever it was, their shirt had come untucked in the effort. Blaine was beginning to think that this couldn’t be anyone dangerous. But who would try to get out of the house this way? Who was so desperate to leave they would resort to such things as attempting to climb out an upper story window? Blaine was well aware that even the living room window on the first story was high above solid ground. It looked out over the edge of the hill.

Blaine was struck with the sudden realization that whomever was doing this, would be better off just swinging into the living room. There was no way that sheet was going to reach all the way to the ground.

The curly haired boy rushed over and was relieved to find that the window was easy to open. He braced both hands on the windowsill and stuck his head out, turning it to look upwards.

“Kurt?” he cried in surprise, recognizing the top of his friend's head and his pale hands wrapped tightly around the bedsheet.

“Blaine!” Kurt shouted, both incredibly surprised and relieved to see his best friend. “Thank a God I don’t believe in that you’re alright!” In his surprise, his grip on the sheet loosened and he suddenly found himself sliding down fast. He let out a yelp.

“Kurt!” Blaine cried. He caught the other boy’s hand as he started to slide past him. The bedsheet came undone up higher from the increased pressure of Kurt sliding down it and fell from the window. Both boys watched it billow down to the ground. “I got you!” Blaine said. Kurt was now holding onto his hand for dear life.

“Don’t let go!” the pale boy shouted up at him. Blaine could see the sweat beading on Kurt’s forehead. He wasn’t sure what the hell his friend had been thinking.

“I got you!” he repeated. “You have to try and pull yourself up, Kurt!”

“I can’t!” Kurt said. Blaine had never seen him so scared, not even when he was talking about the bullying back at McKinley.

“You can!” he tried to encourage him.

Kurt shook his head, tears brimming at his eyes now. “No! I’ll pull you out the window, Blaine! I can’t!”

It was Blaine’s turn to shake his head. “No you won’t Kurt, I promise. You can do this! Courage Kurt, remember? Courage!”

The familiar encouragement flowed through Kurt stronger than it ever had and yeah, maybe following Blaine’s advice had gotten him kissed by a closeted bully, but in the end, it had led to him going to Dalton and getting to see Blaine so much more than he ever had been able to at McKinley. So even if following his best friends advice might have led to unwanted attention, it was made up for by getting to spend more time with him.

Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand and swung his feet through the air, looking for purchase against the wall of the house. Blaine was still bracing his other hand on the window sill. He gripped it as tight as he could bear, ignoring the fact that his palms were still stinging from when he’d caught that fall earlier.

Suddenly, Blaine could feel something trying to pry his fingers away from Kurt’s hand. “Blaine I’m slipping!” Kurt cried out in fear. Tears were streaming down his face now. Blaine released the window and grabbed a hold of Kurt’s arm with his other hand, intending to have one hand on him at all times, no matter how hard the unseen presence tried to pry him free.

“I’m not going to let you fall Kurt, I promise!” he called. He was doing an excellent job at hiding his own fear. Right now, Kurt needed him. And he was not going to let the other boy down.

Kurt was full on crying. “Blaine I’m scared!” he cried out.

“I know honey,” Blaine said, the term of endearment just slipping out without much thought.

The next thing the curly haired boy knew, he felt someone’s arms wrap around his waist and heard a voice from behind him.

“On the count of three, pull as hard as you can! One, two, three!”

Blaine did as he was told and with one hand losing its grip thanks to the unseen presence, he gave one mighty pull as the person holding him by the waist pulled him backwards. Kurt flew up through the window and landed on Blaine, who stumbled back into the other person, who turned out to be Lance Shroeder.

Kurt was curled up in a crying heap on top of Blaine and the curly haired boy just sat there for a moment trying to soothe him. But at the same time, he needed to know what had happened. He turned a firm look onto Lance.

“What the hell happened?” he asked the man, who threw his hands up in surrender.

“Something locked him in the Lorens’ room,” Lance replied. “After the doorknob wouldn’t give, David and I went down to the kitchen to look for something to pry it open with. We were just on our way back up when we heard you shouting.” He nodded to the doorway where David was standing with a screwdriver they’d found in a kitchen drawer. Apparently, the idea was to unscrew the knob from the door.

“What was he doing there in the first place?” Blaine got out.

Kurt finally found his voice again and sat up shakily. “Annabelle Loren is dead.” Blaine’s eyes were round as saucers at the news.

“Her spirit attacked Mr. Loren,” Lance added. Blaine looked from Kurt to Lance and back to Kurt again.

“That doesn’t explain why you were in their room Kurt,” the younger boy said, eyes resting on his friend. Kurt let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. He was quiet for a moment, trying to word what he had to say carefully so as not like he knew something he didn’t.

“We all know this house is supposedly haunted,” he started, looking from Blaine to Lance to David. “The Lorens set this whole party up. I wouldn’t put it past them to try and scare us. Think about it. Frederick is offering ten thousand dollars to anyone who survives the night. Do you really think he’s just going to sit by and not try to get to us? It’s supposed to be a challenge.”

Blaine caught on right away. “You think Annabelle’s death was a trick.”

Kurt nodded. “So while the rest of you were focused on Annabelle attacking Frederick, I took the opportunity to peek inside the room. There was a body that looked like Annabelle on the bed. But then, something pushed me in and slammed the door behind me.”

Lance glanced over at David and then back at the two teenagers. “That was when we noticed you gone. Frederick had turned and fled down the corridor, trying to get away from his wife’s ghost so to speak. She was blaming him. We didn’t see what happened to either of them after that. We were too concerned about getting you out.”

“But Kurt,” Blaine said. “Why would you ever attempt to climb out that window?”

The pale boy sighed yet again. “Mr. Pritchard said there were no passageways that he knew of in that room. They couldn’t get the door open from the other side. My priority was trying to find you so I knew I had to get out of there one way or another. When I nearly fell out of the open window, it gave me an idea.”

It was David who spoke next. “Wait a minute, there’s not supposed to be any way out of the house for the night after the doors were locked, so why was the window open?”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t think it mattered either way. Nobody would have survived jumping out that window and I was stupid enough to do what I did. I guess I’m just lucky.” He shrugged. “But it’s still possible it was part of Mr. Loren’s plan.”

“Do you think he and Annabelle are conspiring together?” Lance asked.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied honestly. Because he didn’t. In the film, it was David and Annabelle that had been conspiring together. However, nothing was as it seemed here and Mr. Loren was certainly not the same man from the film. It was entirely possible he was acting completely alone. There was that little detail that Annabelle thought he was trying to kill her, after his second and third wives were murdered and his first wife went missing. But given that, and what the actual fact of the film plot was, there was no way of knowing if film Annabelle had just made it up. Perhaps to turn the guests against her husband.

Blaine had pulled Kurt into his arms and was running a soothing hand over the other boy’s back.

“Wait,” Kurt suddenly said, looking at Lance and David. “You said the two of you left to find something to pry the door open. What happened to everybody else?”

Lance looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“By the time I’d made the decision to try and climb out the window, the corridor outside the room had lapsed into silence, like everyone had dispersed.”

Lance exchanged a look with David. The other man shrugged. Apparently, the others must have still been at the door when they’d left to find some tool to open the door with.

“Do you think it was possible the house was playing tricks on him?” David asked.

No one said a word. Kurt was now so much more confused than he had started the night. All these changes didn’t serve well to help him figure out what was going on. There was really no way to tell whether the house was actually haunted, or everything was set up by Mr. Loren. One thing was for sure, if it was a set up, they were damn good special effects.

That thought alone had him leaning towards the fact that the house may actually be haunted. They didn’t have those kinds of special effects in the fifties. Especially not in a low budget horror film. But that didn’t mean there couldn’t be some truth to it being a setup too.

Kurt turned to Blaine then. “What happened to you?” he asked, now taking in how much dust was covering Blaine’s suit.

The boy shook his head. “I landed somewhere in the basement. You know it’s like a maze down there?” he asked. The other three exchanged looks. “Anyway, the room I ended up in was pitch dark and I tried calling out to see if someone was there. And then something shouted at me to get out. And when I told it I didn’t know how, it threw me.”

Kurt’s eyes were wide. “It threw you?!” he asked incredulously. Lance and David both looked just as surprised as Kurt at Blaine’s words. But there was also something else in Kurt’s eyes. Anger. How dare an unexplained something throw his friend. The boy he cared about more than else in the world.

Blaine nodded and swallowed before he went on. “And then I found myself walking through room after room for I don’t know how long, until finally, I made it to the room with the vat. But then it crossed my mind that the door to the main house might have been locked. I figured Mr. Pritchard hadn’t bothered to tell us about the rest of the basement because he might have assumed after seeing the vat, we wouldn’t want to go down there.”

“I know I didn’t,” Lance said. “How did you get out?” he added.

“I remembered the cement bricks Mr. Pritchard had shown us when Kurt asked why no one had tried to cover the vat before. I figured if the door was locked, I could use one of them to break the doorknob. Better idea than pounding on the door until someone heard me. But there was a problem.”

“What?” Kurt asked, now gripping a hold of his best friend’s hands. Blaine’s eyes went back to the pale boy.

“When Mr. Pritchard had shown us earlier, he needed Lance’s help to move the shelf. I didn’t know if I would be able to move it on my own.”

“Did you try?” David asked. Blaine fell quiet. His face appeared like it would be draining of color if they weren’t in black and white.

“Blaine?” Kurt questioned, gripping his hands tighter.

“I didn’t get the chance,” he got out in a voice barely above a whisper.

Kurt, Lance, and David all exchanged looks with each other. However, it was a new voice in the room that prompted him to go on.

“Why not?” Kurt looked up to see Nora, Ruth, and Mr. Pritchard had joined them in the living room. He had half a mind to ask where they had been but pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time. Blaine was still in the middle of his story.

Blaine drew a deep breath and looked around at the lot of them. “Something pushed me. I felt two hands press against my chest and shove. I lost my balance and the vat was right behind me.”

“Oh my God,” Nora whispered, a hand going to her mouth. Kurt had a sharp intake of breath. So he wasn’t the only one who had nearly lost his life. A part of him didn’t want Blaine to go on, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I used quick thinking. I reached out and grabbed a hold of the shelf at the last possible second. It fell with me,” Blaine went on. “I thought for sure I was a goner, but then, I found myself wrapped around the shelf hovering over the vat. So, I climbed around to the other side and slowly made my way down until I could put my feet on the floor. I didn’t want to take any other chances, so I grabbed a cement brick and ran up the stairs.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have locked that door,” Mr. Pritchard said. Blaine let out a watery laugh.

“I was on my way to find you when I saw the sheet hanging outside the window from the hallway. I couldn’t tell what it was from there so I decided to investigate.”

“And that’s when you found me climbing down from the second story,” Kurt finished. Blaine nodded his head. The two boys hugged each other tightly. No one said a word.

It was quiet for several moments before Ruth spoke. “This was a terrible idea,” she said. Everyone turned and looked at her. “None of us should have agreed to this. You could tell just by reading the daunting details that it wasn’t going to end well.”

More quiet followed her words before Lance stood up and looked around at everyone. “As far as we know, Annabelle Loren is dead. We don’t have a clue what happened to Mr. Loren. Kurt and Blaine have both had near brushes with fatal accidents. I say we all stay right here in the living room for the rest of the night.”

“What if someone has to go to the bathroom?” David asked.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Blaine muttered, only loud enough for Kurt to hear. Kurt gave him a wide-eyed look, but the curly haired boy shook his head, reassuring him that what he was thinking hadn’t happened, but if any more terrifying things happened, it was definitely a possibility for any of them.

“Then we go as a group, and keep talking to the person as much as possible while they’re in the bathroom,” Lance said. Kurt and Blaine could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t like the idea anymore than anyone else seemed to.

“We aren’t a pack of giggling girls,” Blaine said, before covering his mouth with his hand. Kurt blushed. He may not be a girl, but he’d often joined the pack of giggling girls. He was no stranger to the girl’s bathroom at McKinley.

Just then, the lights went out.

“Oh no, not again!” Kurt cried. He wrapped his arms around Blaine and clung to him as tightly as he dared.

Laughter started to boom and it sounded like it was coming from all around them.

“What’s happening?” David asked aloud.

“Lance I don’t like this!” came Nora’s voice from nearer to Kurt and Blaine than she had been previously. They suspected she might have thrown herself into the man’s arms.

The sound of a clock chiming began to echo around the room and the two boys held onto each other even tighter.

“You will all lose!” boomed a voice. The spectral vision of Mr. Loren’s head appeared hovering in the air. The women screamed and the men let out surprised shouts.

“What the hell?” Kurt hearn Lance say.

The floating head of Mr. Loren threw itself back and laughed, hard, loud, and maniacal. It was accompanied by the chiming of the clock. But it was supposedly past midnight. Why would the clock chime.

“Don’t you see?” Mr. Loren snickered. “In the house on haunted hill, time is obsolete.” His laughter returned as the face of a clock appeared hovering in the air. The hands spun around it in much the same effect used in time travel movies. “You will all be trapped here forever, until you meet your doom!”

His laughter began to be drowned out by the chiming of the clock. Kurt and Blaine could barely hear the voices of the people around them. They were starting to fade. The chiming got louder and louder and then suddenly…

…

The clock and the head of Mr. Loren vanished and the boys found themselves staring at rolling credits. They blinked and looked around. They were sitting on the couch in the Hudmel household. The film displayed on the television was at the end. The two of them were still wrapped tightly in one another’s arms.

“Wh-what just happened?” Blaine asked, not daring to move.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied, shaking his head. Slowly, he pulled away from Blaine, reluctant to do so. He turned his head to the right. There was his cell phone, sitting on the end table. It was lit up with a text across the screen. Kurt picked it up. It was from his stepmom, letting him know that she and Burt were crashing in a hotel for the night after they’d had a little too much to drink at their Halloween party.

Despite everything, Kurt found himself breaking into laughter. The joy of seeing such a normal text in front of him was almost too much to bear. He scrambled up and switched on the lights in the living room. Both boys blinked as they were assaulted with the colored world of reality.

“Blaine,” Kurt started, tears streaming his face again. “We’re home.”

As if on cue, Blaine broke out in cheers. He jumped up from the couch and ran happily to the other boy, wrapping him in his arms. Kurt laughed again. He’d never been so happy to know that he was home.

He was so elated, that he pulled back and kissed Blaine firmly on the mouth. The other boy pulled away after a moment and stared at him in awe.

“Kurt?” he said in a quiet voice.

“I...I…” Kurt stammered, blushing so hard he had to duck his head. And suddenly Blaine smiled.

“I like you too,” he said and moved in to kiss Kurt again. The pale boy had to cling to Blaine’s shirt to keep his knees from giving out.

“Will you...go out with me then?” Kurt asked tentatively.

“On one condition,” Blaine replied and Kurt gave him a quizzical look. “No more watching scary movies at midnight.” Kurt laughed.

“Deal,” he said, and sealed it with a kiss.


End file.
